


Komm, süßer Tod

by pluvieux



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion, Original Work
Genre: Gore, Poetry, erogoru, prose, prose poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 19:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16771735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluvieux/pseuds/pluvieux
Summary: what it's like to look back after you believed in something so much that you can't believe in anything else anymore;; we're damned, after allGET IN THE FUCKING ROBOT SHINJI





	Komm, süßer Tod

**Author's Note:**

> being: i want to be good, a glass figurine with fractured insides,

it’s sleeting.

i put another chocolate in my mouth. you’re on the stoop, staring at a puddle. i think you forgot about your cigarette, but i don’t think you actively like smoking them anyway. i offer you a mini snickers and you unwrap it without blinking. like wherever you are, it’s not a place your eyes can see.

“maybe we should go get dry,” i say.

the sleet falls steadily and i feel the cold starting to curl up and coil within me. 

silent. unconsensual solitude. a bite to break the itch. here we are, at the intersection of pedestrian language & old folks tales, distant police sirens and washing yourself  
in an unfamiliar body of water to wash away the prose, wash away the promises, to wash away the murder with the six. you say my name like it's something to be buried, amen.  
this isn't letting go, you breathe, this is forgetting you've ever had a grip in the first place, this is haywire, the body may go on strictly on autopilot but the heart is heavy and achored 

here.

“can a human being break?” you ask finally. i knew this was coming but it still feels like i’ve been dropped from an okay day into an important moment. i don’t know how to handle it. i pull out another chocolate.

our mortal coils consist of bone, of flesh. we cannot break, we are built to rebound, to grow, to scar over our cracks but to come back up from the ground below, like weeds between concrete parkways or even the way i pull out flowers painfully from my throat. whom has promised you: when a plate breaks, you can seal it with gold. but a person? you may be beautiful but we will never be ceramic, we don’t shatter.

but then i look at you and i look at where the snow’s already covering the road and it’s all turning into a mess and you still haven’t finished your cigarette and i’m running out of chocolate and i don’t ever have the right words in the moment. what is there to say except yeah shit sucks but it’s not all rotten.

incompetent, i know. insatiable. the split migraine cured by you in minutes and i, 

incompetent, unfit for a lover. 

pathetic.  
useless.

i look for the sunset in the rearview mirror and i can't help but look for you. i keep qotsa on high and i help my friend lace a boxing glove with hatred, ask myself when i'm  
going to start hating you. tempest, a weathered sailor telling me stories at the bar and maybe i recognize him, but of course i don't know him, of course i don't and i never have.  
galvanize the heart in sport or spite, i know you wanted to drown me and i would still let you. breathe in the water like it's every last necessity of my being. we're beside the water,  
watching it all go down (because is it ever _our_ love story? for fuck's sake) and you hand me a rock. "this isn't the one that killed goliath or anything, but," 

“i think,” i say finally, “it can feel like it.” 

what i mean is. yes it hurts as bad as a knife-edge. what i mean is. i know where you are, i was born there and the back of my throat never stopped burning from it. what i mean is. it’s okay if you’re like this, i’ll try to help carry your heart until it stops hurting. an elk walks by in the distance and it reminds me i'm only pretending not to know better. an  
injustice. my happiness as a penance, what it's like to look back after you believed in something so much that you can't believe in anything else anymore, will we be okay?  
i'm losing my mind. like holding the grain of sand from very center of a hailstone that busted out your window, you realize, that was abuse, right? could you be a victim to  
stockholm?

“but no,” you say, distant. “No, you don’t think so. a person can’t be broken.”

“well,” i say, but you’re already moving. you stand up, throw down the cigarette, leave a burnt orange smear under your sneaker. stomp off snow.

you flash me a smile. moment over. moment gone. something i said, i know, was deeply, terribly wrong. i hear a door closing between us. some kind of shutting. behind your eyes, something is leaning in, giving up to the storm. 

“Come on,” you say, that dead-inside smile still on, “let’s go inside.”

“no, i…” 

the smile grows. you take a chocolate. “it’s all good,” you say. i know it’s not. “let just go get warm.”

NOV 26 0520A "REPENT"

to dissect a god complex. 

how do you find your way home? the first shovel of dirt onto my body, my heart the most novel thing that i want to leave behind for good this time, this time, again.  
i get back in the car and my radio was left on high, i'm driving on E and the headache tells me to just yank it. i keep coming back even though it makes my skin crawl. a poison  
place wrapped in peace. i keep my head down, hide myself best i can, 

how do you find your way home? static in the line, am i invited or am i intruding? 

hunting for wires and shiny things to give to you, can you learn the language i love you with?

i'm skittish. my friend holds a hand out to cocoa and i know how she feels, like a spider being coaxed into a cup. 

the red sun comes down wrong and maybe that's why, i've baptized in a light that has never reached my core. i find comfort in the ugly things. let a millipede crawl up my  
bare arm because they have Good energy like a puppy, i've been doing happy wrong since i was / and sinxe then i am responsible for this. a body god forgot to put a person into  
and its not me im talking about, because how do you recover from that ache. do you think !! that on samhain the archangels still burn down gardens out of spite and vengeance  
because i feel like maybe i want to go down in flames. like nothing is right but i cant pinpoint what exactly is so wrong. like happy slid right off me and it's been like that for  
a hot minute.

today has been full of bad omens; red skies and dead birds, a chill i can’t escape, a night spent full of fever dreams. scientist to your bones - but when the world is like this, something eerie comes calling. i find myself watching horizons, staring at trees, whispering words /m/u/h/t/i/v/a/s/ taught me amongst the astrals of 333. i vibrate runes and close all of the blinds, tell myself to grow up and be serious. when the wind howls, i turn as if responding to a tugging. days like this, i find the moon without looking. less hours in the day, longer nights. there's blood in my mouth and the taste lingers on your tongue still. if we keep at it like this, you'll only end up consuming me. 

it feels nauseating. i want to rip my organs out frantically, 

landslide, open roads in texas and the nearest human life has got to be wherever that distant thunder is rolling in. 

everyone tells me, _emi, quit all that lookin back,_ but darling _i'll be screaming through the afterlife. i'll be hunting for you, buried under flowers.*_

i see a crushed blue beer bottle and the way it sparkles under the sunlight impresses me,  
convince myself you love me but you're just bad at showing it  
and i found myself not wishing you beside me, found myself looking up at the cold stars and it didn't even cross my mind that the sky is still the sky without you.

i loved you with something unearthly and that was the beginning + end of everything, i was fucking delusional with love,  
the knife + the meat + the flies, for you. the world. for us, the night we hesitated, we never touched but we've shared wooden handles with stained blades + that was  
high enough for us. and here i am, the aftermath of another penance to my name and all i want is more. _and if you don't love me now you may never love me again,_  
but tender was my miracle, gentle, affection was never the whispered voice and i want everything you gave to me damned to a new soul. witch weather, we discussed, and when my eyes laid upon the barbed wires i felt it. i fucking felt all of the rage at once, all of the longing + everything that was empty before has been satiated now. i thanked father  
\+ threw that shit into 4wd, blasted rhiannon as loud as i could and booked it the fuck home, as if i would drive safely even after. this mortal coil means nothing to me anymore.

pain as a euphoric, cursing my high tolerance as i recover quickly, masturbate before i walk it off and let myself downspiral into the crimson, feed it, eat the flames + beg it to  
stay a little longer. avoid aid to avoid the painkillers because in what dream where i die am i not having the time of my life, gouge out my intestines + tear me limb by limb,  
when was it that an electric circular saw brought me excitement? butterfly pinups + a specific sort of yandere, wolves sing + i want to answer. drink your silence + forget their names, shatter your fist on the "lord's" jaw and you sleep at sorrow's convenience, when i turned 18 i forgot that you carved an e into your flesh and i threw myself into  
every passing violent comet's path. we're best friends forever, still, because until death is a catholic thing to say + that's something we've long denounced. 

bless the empty, we lie. abandoned like altars in a bombing run, in this room where you are not, you are, and the air darkens around me. night lowers itself.  
a garden that is always in bloom, i hear the trumpets and i think, no, not angels, not ciaran o'donnell,  
she died the day you were to unearth your efforts, it wasn't a coincidence, was it? to be alone is to be haunting, was that your intent? 

tell me you want me back,  
catalyst for a kinder beginning  
look me in the eyes + choke me, tell me you hate me again with your split tongue i've long adored  
crack my ribcage open  
pull my heart right through

when was it that i was blasting wolfman + wolfgang + when was it that you taught me how to dilute + clean animal bones  
we made divine what god made monstrous  
HEARTLESS CREATURES ARE LOVELESS  
LOVELESS CREATURES ARE BEASTS*

my dearest beloved, you call,  
you annoyed me at times but i loved you as you were mine  
how could there be no fire in august?  
my emwem, somehow mutated, possessed, parasitically controlled or reanimated improperly

stab me all the way from california  
double-headed elk from hemet stares at me through the window  
"you know better,"  
beauty + grace + terror,  
(i made a home out of something that made me so, so weak)

love for the macabre / affection held for the poisonous /  
as a familiar, serpent. repulsive, searing,  
heretic  
hug + strangle me, crush me whole 

so black + dead + frightful, wretchful, loathsome thing, am i now  
what is it w all of those stories ab making monsters human, subtracting what makes them strange + terrible: a "broken" thing mended, an "ugly" thing made "beautiful", i'll never  
fucking fall in love with anything or anyone less than violent + blooming, how could i commit to someone who would unblinkingly decide to be human when i lose my mind over  
the eldritch calls, show me your cruelty, your violence + persecution + fear + trauma + addiction, run my tongue over the exile + get swallowed whole by the loneliness i have  
cornered myself into (again). i'll never give it a second glance if you lose your mind a thousand more times, i inflict wounds in quantum + the pain evermore roars or beats or aches or shivers in silence. nightmares + day-terrors, the forgetting + remembering, the loose teeth and bits of glass and black writhy things that surface from your skin.,,. being as an exoplanet with six suns, spit acid + recoil into the you that you "shouldn't" be. i ask again, as i have many times before, qu'est-ce que votre âme ressemble? i cover my mirror so that creatures cannot crawl through from the other side. fuck me in an abandoned church, let's go near the marshes + send me snapchats of cryptic gospel signs. the things that get irrevocably lost; the grace that comes shambling in. what is it about breaking down, what is it about crashing into a tree that highlights being alive in a dark, foul place—being a rough grim strange brave unlovely animal hauling your hide and heart and guts through the sulphurous stink of deepest hell, even when there’s no promise of light or air

just, fuckn listen. be ugly and dirty + impure + hungry and awful and dark and clumsy + disquieting, sharp + brittle and misshapen and mangled and blistered and pestilent and fearful and poisoned and sin-steeped and profane and broken, and strange, _so strange._ boundaries can be warped and razed and crossed over; sacred, i'll play god. 

(perspective, _georges bataille: ‘I don’t want your love unless you know I am repulsive, and love me even as you know it.’_ )

a gravel road that went nowhere, that is where it was, for me.  
the demons harvesting me went quiet, 555, _come back!,_ they screech, writhe, torture, _be it as a shadow or a dream,_  
savages who have found the right words to worship, i love you, i love you, i fucking love you, 

elegant hinge of your wrist  
dislocation, dissociation,  
waiting to be me again.  
having genuine reciprocated feelings for someone is honestly so lovely and warm and scary and vulnerable  
this, too, is a violence. 

“Did you ever notice how in the Bible, when ever God needed to punish someone, or make an example, or whenever God needed a killing, he sent an angel? Did you ever wonder what a creature like that must be like? A whole existence spent praising your God, but always with one wing dipped in blood. Would you ever really want to see an angel?”  
— Thomas Daggett, The Prophecy 

..//m - you're who i stay up for. dogtired, almost-dreaming every time i close my eyes. you wind up in my dreams because evven then i'm not done thinking about you. a  
wet road lit up by neon lights, patches of dense fog and the distant, comfortable sirens of the rise, you make me feel like june. god. i hope i'm a fraction of this to you. when will you decide to draw blood? you are desirable + i am utterly fascinated with you. one day i'll love you absent of mercy, want you inside of me so you should split me open with a knife 

et je le revois pour la première fois, qqc dans mon cœur s'est cassé et a guéri en même temps, une implosion qui me fait bouger, bouger, l'embrasser parce que bien sûr, c'est ridicule, qui se soucie de qui regarde: the sky can darken and the sun can go out and teeth can snap mais ici, ici dans ses bras. et il est réel, il est là, et il importe d'une manière que rien d'autre ne fait. alors je l'embrasse et j'espère qu'il sait.

i broke all the bottles in this goddamn house. i took the door off the hinge and i smashed your coffee mugs on the floor. you came unhinged from this earth, lost your anchor, and left me alone. so i break against the emptiness and listen for your humming through the thick walls.*

there are unfair things i have longed for with an aching  
the relief of giving in to destruction  
_i fucking lied._

**Author's Note:**

> *— Chelsea Wolfe, from Hisspun; “Two Spirit,” released c. September 2017  
> *Stephen King, The Drawing of the Three  
> *Jonny Bolduc, 2016, jaws


End file.
